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hey all, i think i’d make a thread about shit that i went through as a kid, just so all of my posts on here don’t seem like virtue-signaling. Please know that i’m not looking for sympathy, this serves more like an explanation. if i don’t like this, i’ll delete it all later.
So, I was born in Manhattan on Sept 25th, a few weeks after 9/11. My mom was horrified and she swore that she wanted to get out of NYC as soon as possible so I wasn’t raised next to so much crime + dirtiness.
We moved to Maryland when I was about 2, and my mother had another child when I was 4. I didn’t realize it then, but my parents never got along. I’ve been told my father broke my mother’s ribs one day when I was at daycare//
//and on the day my sister was born, at the hospital, he told my mom “I don’t love you anymore, but I want to stay for the girls.”
My father would continue to have violent tendencies towards my mother, and would control everything she did. He wouldn’t let her drive the car or leave the house most of the time. I remember one specific instance while they were arguing and I sat on the staircase and watched.
My father picked up our glass coffee table, smashed it against the wall, grabbed a shard of glass, went into the kitchen and stabbed himself in the right shoulder, and yelled “Maybe this will make you love me.” He still has the scars.
After that, my Mom knew she had to get out. Behind his back, she tipped off an anonymous nonprofit organization about what was going on, who provides shelter for abused women & kids as they try to live a normal life. https://www.heartlyhouse.org/ ">https://www.heartlyhouse.org/">...
My earliest memory is watching the glass incident, and I wouldn’t tell my mom I saw it until I was an adult.
I however have very vivid memories about the Heartly House. Each family gets one bedroom to stay in and we shared a communal kitchen.
I however have very vivid memories about the Heartly House. Each family gets one bedroom to stay in and we shared a communal kitchen.
We stayed with one immigrant mother with a newborn baby girl, and a son who was a little younger than I was at the time — i was about 4 or 5. There was an older woman named Ms Peggy who had a small gaming station where I could play Snake and Frogger. She’d babysit me.
My mother found a small apartment through a government program and we left the Heartly House. When we moved in, I was about to start Kindergarten.
My mother and father didn’t want me to know back then why they wanted to live separately, but I had the idea. My mom would eventually let my father stay with us again in order to have him in our lives, but because of the consistently toxic household, he’d leave by 2011 for good.
My mother has serious back injuries that we don’t know the cause of. I suspect that it’s because of my father, but my mother is hesitant to blame him for it.
In 2012, she had to get surgery on her back, which would stop it from getting worse but rendering her disabled.
In 2012, she had to get surgery on her back, which would stop it from getting worse but rendering her disabled.
So all throughout elementary school, middle school and most of high school, we were surviving off of food stamps, disability and section 8 housing, all government supplemental programs. There were days I’d only eat a bowl of white rice//
//and other times we’d be invited to barbecues by our cousins. When we’d go, we’d always eat a ton, because we were so excited to have plenty of food for once.
I developed really bad eating habits, and grew pretty overweight. In middle school I hated my looks so much that I would tie my hair in a bun and wear the same oversized jacket every single day because I didn’t want others to see my matted hair&overweight self in stained clothes.
The only time I felt good about myself was band class in middle school. I was able to use a school flute and I loved every second of playing, my teacher also really liked me and for the first time I felt like I could do something right.
Then she left my 8th grade (13 years old) year and she was replaced by somebody who didn’t like me so much. She told me I wasn’t good, I was overconfident and that I wouldn’t ever get first chair.
And those things might have been true.//
And those things might have been true.//
//I don’t blame her for being brutally honest with a kid. For a lot of overconfident kids, sometimes they need to be put in place.
But for me, who was still going hungry and suppressing severe anxiety problems, it didn’t work the way she had hoped.
But for me, who was still going hungry and suppressing severe anxiety problems, it didn’t work the way she had hoped.
From then on I had severe anxiety about performing and playing my instrument. When I went to high school I decided i’d try again, just one more time, with a new teacher to see if I could get by.
I cried most nights. I only made one friend, Claire, and was by myself mostly.
I cried most nights. I only made one friend, Claire, and was by myself mostly.
High school band was a different ballgame i wasn’t ready for. The anxiety continued to well up inside of me and messed me up day in and day out. I started feeling physically sick from all of the anxiety in the form of stomach pains and intense headaches.
I denied I had anxiety. For me, my family thought that anxiety was only for people who went to war, people who were beaten or abused. I suppressed it over and over and continued to sign up for band even though I hated every moment.
Nobody really bullied me until junior year, when i was falsely accused of being a thief. I’d get threatening text messages every few days from different numbers, but I didn’t tell anybody.
By senior year I had a 42% attendance rate because of how sick I felt because of the anxiety. Doctors couldn’t tell me what was wrong, and after my third attempt at taking my own life, my mom put me in to therapy.
Things have been going well, and college is looming. I‘ve been trying new techniques that my amazing therapist has taught me and have made a lot of progress.
There are a few lingering involuntary things I do because of when I went hungry, but it’s gotten easier.
There are a few lingering involuntary things I do because of when I went hungry, but it’s gotten easier.
This thread isn’t every single detail, and i’ve only named people whose identities don’t really matter. There were people who supported me along the way and there were friends who left me behind when I couldn’t keep up. I understand those friends and I don’t feel bad about them.
To anybody who sent me a text, said hi to me when I came to class, offered me their notes, or said “Are you feeling all right?” at any point between grades 5 and 11 — Thank you. That’s what kept me going for a long time.
my story isn’t the worst out there by any means, and I don’t want to minimalize the horrors that some people have to go through and live with on a daily basis.
But the story is mine, and I’ll own it. I’m going to deal with it, because that was the hand I was dealt.
But the story is mine, and I’ll own it. I’m going to deal with it, because that was the hand I was dealt.
To anybody who survived trauma, abuse, poverty, hate, mental health problems, or might think they have mental health problems —
Once you realize it, the rest is up to you. You aren’t defined by what hand you’ve been dealt — you’re defined by how you play the rest of the game.
Once you realize it, the rest is up to you. You aren’t defined by what hand you’ve been dealt — you’re defined by how you play the rest of the game.
